


Embrace

by benwisehart



Category: Marvel 616, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hugs, Mother-Son Relationship, Tommy-centric, lots and lots of hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8223949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benwisehart/pseuds/benwisehart
Summary: The two lives of Thomas Maximoff, as told through a series of hugs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story was born of my twin passions: Tommy and Hugs. And Tommy getting hugs. And writing about Tommy getting hugs. Preferably from Wanda.

Tommy does not remember his first hug. Nobody ever does, of course, but if he did, he would remember that it happened in the second-last week of May, in a little house in Cresskill, New Jersey, on the day that he was born. 

He would remember being held in his father’s arms while everyone exclaimed in surprise at the unexpected arrival of his twin. He would remember being passed around and complimented by his new family and their friends until finally he was returned to the arms of the most important person in the room. She cradled him alongside his brother, holding him close and tenderly brushing a few wispy curls off his forehead. Had Tommy been capable of meaningful thought, he might have thought that she was the most beautiful thing in the whole wide world. As it was, all he knew was that he was safe and warm and loved, and that nothing would ever be able to hurt him so long as she was there.

 

* * *

 

 

Tommy takes his first steps while Billy is still learning to crawl; even as in infant, he’s eager to be mobile. He’s been riding the furniture for barely a month now, hanging onto things for support while he gets around. Wanda is seated in the couch, curled up with a book while Vision sits on the floor across the room playing with Billy. Next to Wanda’s feet, Tommy watches them both with unveiled interest, one hand in his mouth while the other holds onto the front of the couch.

Both Wanda and Vision nearly miss it when Tommy suddenly lets go of the couch, managing to stumble a solid few feet in the direction of his brother before he face-plants, letting out a cry as he does so. 

He can hear his parents exclaiming in surprise and excitement, but Tommy is barely listening as he pushes himself onto his hands and knees. Wanda hurries over, she lifts him up by his arms until he’s standing again with her support. She says his name, and something that sounds like encouragement, and with her help, he walks another few feet toward Billy and Vision.

Vision has his arms out now, and he’s saying Tommy’s name as well. There’s a feeling akin to determination somewhere inside the little boy; he pulls one of his hands out of Wanda’s. He’s going to make the last few feet on his own; Wanda can clearly sense it too. He feels steady enough. She says something else then, letting go of his other hand slowly so she can still catch him if he falls, but when he’s finally unsupported, he’s okay, wobbling for a few seconds before he takes off again, eyes fixed on Vision. 

Tommy can already feel himself losing his balance; he braces for the pain of hitting the floor again, but this time it doesn’t come. When he falls, a pair of strong arms catch him, and then he’s being lifted up by his father while he and Wanda chatter excitedly. Tommy is barely listening; he’s breathing heavily from the effort of those few steps, clinging to Vision’s sweater and resting the side of his head against his chest. Vision doesn’t breathe like Wanda does, but Tommy isn’t to know that that isn’t normal. His body is warm and he holds Tommy close, and Tommy feels unstoppable.

 

* * *

 

 

Once both twins are mobile, they become a force of nature. Tommy is the one who tends to accidentally break things, but Billy is almost infinitely more likely to get into somewhere he isn’t supposed to.

That being said, they’re nearly always together, holding hands as often as not while they run about the house. They’ve had a string of nannies while their parents are off saving the world, and Billy and Tommy Maximoff have proven themselves a challenge to every single one of them. 

It’s Billy’s idea to look in the basement while their babysitter has her back turned, but Tommy is every bit as responsible for getting him stuck there, since he’s the one who accidentally shuts the door without realising it’s an automatic lock. 

“What’d you do?” Billy asks, mortified, pushing on the door again. They’re not even tall enough to reach the handle. 

“Nothing!” Tommy says, his heart thrumming. It’s black except for the sliver of light underneath the door. He can practically hear his own blood rushing in his ears. He doesn’t know what kind of monster lives in the basement, but whatever it is, he’s just locked them in here with it. “Where’s the light?”

“It’s up there,” Billy says. Almost on the verge of tears, Tommy reaches up to flip the switch, but he’s far too short. 

“I can’t reach it,” Tommy says, sniffling. 

“We’re gonna die.” Billy is trembling.

“Let me stand on your back,” Tommy says then. 

It takes a few moments of shuffling around on the staircase for Billy to get into position, crouching down. Tommy is almost frantic when he tries to use him to boost himself up, but they’ve both underestimated the task; Billy is unprepared for Tommy’s weight, and Tommy is unsteady with fear by the time he finally reaches up for the switch. Both boys lose their balance, and Tommy falls off, toppling headfirst down the stairs into the dark abyss below.

“Tommy!” Billy calls out, sliding down a few steps himself but managing to regain his balance. 

Tommy huddles at the bottom and waits for death to come, too scared to even cry.

Death does not come. When Tommy feels a touch on his shoulder, he knows immediately that it is no monster. His brother has risked his life to come down the stairs after him. Instinctively, Tommy reaches out, and Billy puts his arms around him. 

When their babysitter comes to rescue them a minutes later, having heard Billy’s cry, the boys are huddled in each other’s arms at the bottom of the stairs and holding one another as tightly as they can. Both their faces are wet with tears, but they’re no longer crying. They’re safe when they’re together. The monsters of all the basements in the world cannot harm them. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Daddy, why are you white?”

It’s the first thing that comes out of Tommy’s mouth when he sees Vision. It’s definitely him, but his normally red skin is bleached to nothing. Even his clothes are white. Tommy doesn’t understand.

Their father has not been at home these last few days, and Wanda has been subdued and quiet, barely talking to them except when prompted. Tommy doesn’t understand. Normally, Vision will comfort her when she’s sad, like he comforts them, but they haven’t even seen him. He hasn’t been there to tell them stories or wish them goodnight. So when Tommy finally sees him when Wanda takes them to the Avengers compound, the first thing he feels is relief. Vision is back. Vision will make Wanda happy again.

Wanda does not look happy. If anything, Tommy’s question seems to upset her more. Vision himself barely even acknowledges it.

“What would you have me say, Scarlet Witch?” Vision asks. His voice is cold and robotic, nothing like Tommy remembers it. 

Billy and Tommy look back at Wanda when she answers. She cannot meet their eyes. “I’m not—” She exhales. “If you insist on being what you are, you have to tell them.”

A long moment passes in which Billy and Tommy look back at Vision. Their expressions are innocent and curious, but Tommy does not remember his father ever being so tall or imposing. 

“Very well,” Vision says at last, finally turning his attention to look at the boys directly. “Recently, my original body and my original operating systems were destroyed. What you see before you is a new body, a new mind. A new Vision. As such, though I contain the mechanical parts and memories associated with your father, I am no longer your father. You are not my children. Your mother is not my wife.”

None of what Vision just said makes sense. Confused, Tommy looks back at Wanda, realising that she is crying. She grabs both twins, pulling them close. “What’s wrong with you?” she demands, her voice suddenly harsh, angry. “You used to be kind!”

Tommy _doesn’t understand_. Vision has never made Wanda cry before. She’s always so happy when he’s around. He was supposed to make things better when he came back, but all he’s done is make things worse. 

When Tommy looks over his shoulder as Wanda herds him and Billy away, Vision has not moved from where he was standing. “Is the truth not kind?” he asks simply, his tone completely flat. 

It isn’t until they’re back outside that Wanda finally stops walking, releasing the death grip she has on each of their shoulders in order to run her hands down her face. She lets out a sob, her whole body shaking. 

Anxious, Tommy tugs on her cloak. “Mommy, are you okay?”

On Wanda’s other side, Billy wraps his arms around her leg, rests his head against her hip. 

At this, Wanda lets out a sigh. She sounds so tired, so defeated. Tommy has never seen her like this. “Why was Daddy mean to you?” he asks.

Wanda shakes her head, crouching down so that she is eye level with them. “It’s not Daddy’s fault. He loves us very much,” she tells them, reaching out and pulling them each into her arms. “You boys should know, it’s just going to be the three of us for a while, but you will always have me, I promise. We will be alright.” 

It is not alright. Wanda is sad. Wanda is crying, and Tommy doesn’t know how to make things better. 

Next to him, Billy squeezes her as tightly as he can. “I love you, Mommy,” he says softly.

“I love you too.” Tommy hugs Wanda too, burying his face in her shoulder as he murmurs the words. He doesn’t ever want to let go. 

“You’ll always have us as well,” Billy tells her. 

Wanda kisses each of their heads in turn, cradling them against her chest. “I love you boys,” she whispers, and Tommy tightens his grip. “More than anything else in the world.”

Tommy doesn’t understand why his family has broken apart, but he has his brother, and he has Wanda. Nothing will ever be able to hurt him so long as she is there.

 

* * *

 

 

Nobody hugs them when Master Pandemonium comes.

 

* * *

 

 

Tommy doesn’t remember the first hug of his second life, either. It’s in a hospital this time. New Jersey again, although it’s Springfield, not Cresskill. There’s no twin to follow him, either; Billy is a little way off, joining another family in New York, but Tommy doesn’t know it at the time. It’s okay, though. His new parents are there. The doctors weigh him and clean him off and give him to his mother, and she holds him close, just like Wanda did. He is safe again. Everything will be okay. 

 

* * *

 

 

Tommy is five years old. It’s the end of his first day of school, and he’s been waiting to be picked up for more than half an hour. When he came outside with his class, he eagerly searched the sea of faces awaiting the arrival of their children, but Frank and Mary Shepherd’s were not among them. Now, he’s the last kid left sitting on deck outside his classroom, but he doesn’t mind. 

“They’ll get here soon,” he tells his teacher, who is patiently waiting with him. “I know they will.”

“I’ll give them a call in a few minutes if they aren’t here by then,” she says. “They must’ve been held up; I’m sure they’re really looking forward to hearing about your day.”

Tommy nods excitedly. “Yeah.” School is nice; today they played games to learn each other’s names, and then the teacher read them a book. He’s never had a book read to him; he didn’t realise it could be so much fun. 

The teacher keeps Tommy occupied with talking about their day, but in the end, she doesn’t have to call his parents; they arrive a few minutes later, and Tommy jumps to his feet while the teacher gets up as well. “Thank you, Miss,” Tommy says, picking up his backpack.

She gives him a smile. “It was lovely to meet you, Tommy. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And then she pats him on the shoulder.

It’s not a hug, far from it; just a simple, friendly gesture to send him on his way, but it makes Tommy suddenly feel warm. His parents rarely touch him except to make sure he isn’t wandering off in public. He blinks a couple of times before bidding farewell too and running down the stairs toward his parents’ car.

He never finds out why they were late.

 

* * *

 

 

Tommy is eight years old, and sound carries easily through their house. He’s sitting on his bed, picking at the fraying bit of his pillowcase. Downstairs, his parents are arguing.

Most of it goes over Tommy’s head. It always seems to be something different anyway. There are a few bits here and there, though. Occasionally, Tommy hears his name mentioned. 

“Why did I even marry you?” Tommy grips his pillow tightly as his father’s words carry up the stairs. “It’s obvious he’s not even mine.”

“Just what is _that_ supposed to mean?” 

“His hair is _black_ , Mary _._ Don’t treat me like an idiot. He didn’t get that from either of us.”

“What do you want me to say, Frank?” Mary sounds annoyed. “He’s yours. There was nobody else. Get him tested if you want.”

Upstairs, Tommy tugs at the tip of his fringe, crossing his eyes to look at it. He’s never looked much like his father, but he never gave it much thought until now. Is that why his parents never want him around?

He hates his hair, wishes it looked different. Frank and Mary are still arguing, but Tommy isn’t following it anymore. It isn’t until he hears a door slam that he realises it’s over. Getting up, he crosses to his window, standing on his tiptoes just in time to see his father’s car drive away. 

Tommy looks down at the floor, wondering if Mary is going to leave as well, but he can’t hear her moving around.

Is this his fault? He thinks maybe it might be. They seem to get more and more unhappy with every passing day, and Tommy wishes he could do something. Maybe if he talks to his mother, she can tell him what’s wrong. 

It takes another few minutes for him to work up the courage to go downstairs. He doesn’t often wander the house at night time; the shadows cast by the night lights are long and eerie, but Tommy holds his head high as he passes them, peering around the corner at the bottom of the stairs.

Mary is seated at the kitchen table, a cigarette in her mouth, and as Tommy watches, she covers it with one hand and lights it, inhaling deeply with her eyes closed. She seems tense.

Tommy only hesitates for a moment before making his way over to her, reaching for her sleeve and giving it a gentle tug. “Mom?”

Mary’s eyes dart open again and she looks down at him, surprised. “You’re still awake.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Tommy chews his lip anxiously. “Mom, are you okay?”

“Not now, Thomas.” Mary takes another long draw from her cigarette. 

It takes a moment for Tommy to respond, wondering if he should mention that he heard their conversation. Finally, he says, “Why was Dad mean to you?”

At this, Mary pulls her arm away from Tommy’s. “It doesn’t matter,” she says, sounding strained.

“Is it because of me?” Tommy asks, quieter this time. 

“No more questions, Thomas, please.” Mary sits back in her chair, not looking at him. She runs her free hand down her face, and Tommy wishes he hadn’t come. “It’s just been a long day.”

There’s a note of tiredness in Mary’s voice as she says the words; it makes Tommy feel bad for bothering her. He just wanted to make sure she was okay, that’s all. Anxiously, Tommy puts one arm around her torso, before he leans his head against her shoulder, just staying like that for a moment.

Mary stiffens, but only a little. Holding the cigarette away from Tommy, she reaches up with her free hand to give him a pat on the head, and Tommy feels warmth flood his entire body from the simple gesture. 

“Have you eaten?” she asks at last, letting go of him.

Tommy made himself some microwave mac and cheese earlier. He nods. 

“Good.” Snuffing out her cigarette, Mary gets to her feet. “You should go back to bed. I need to get some work done now.”

“Okay.” Tommy understands; she’s busy. That’s okay. She’ll still be in the house if he needs anything. It’s better that he doesn’t bother her anymore. 

When Tommy goes back to his room, he crawls into bed, grabs his pillow and hugs it close to his chest. He pretends it’s her. 

 

* * *

 

 

Tommy is fourteen, and this is far from the first time he’s been brought home by the police. He’s got that one cop this time; he’s less of an asshole than some of the others and still kind of new to the force but Tommy’s had him a few times before.

Technically, Tommy’s been at Dad’s place this week, but the cop—he told Tommy his name but he’s forgotten it—brought him back to Mom’s, because why not. She’s probably the one less likely to yell at him. Tommy waits with his arms folded, not looking at Officer Good Cop or the door even when Mary answers it. 

“What’s he done this time?” is the first thing she says upon reading the situation, and Tommy grimaces. Next to him, the officer tips his hat. 

“Mrs. Shepherd, I’m sorry to disturb you. We found your son—”

“Are they pressing charges?”

The man’s expression hardens. “No, the store owner he stole from decided not to, but I can’t say he’s likely to be so lucky next time. This is the second incident this month.”

Mary sighs, obviously relieved. “Thank you, officer. I’ll talk to him.”

“I’d just hate to see him end up in juvie again.”

“Still standing right here, you know,” Tommy says, moving to stride past his mother into the house, but she puts her arm across the doorway to block him, turning to look him over briefly. 

“You’re not hurt, are you?” she asks, sounding strained. “That’s the most important thing.” Then she hugs him.

It’s so obviously just for show that Tommy actually feels secondhand embarrassment for the officer that brought him here. He tenses up, not returning the gesture. Mary lets go quickly.

He’s already heard the lecture at the police station and he’s heard it a million times before. Time to skip to the part where he says he’s sorry and pretends to care. He just wants to go upstairs and drown out the world for a while. 

The conversation between Mary and the officer lasts another few minutes, but to Tommy, they feel like an eternity. The words are too drawn out for him to focus on. By the time the officer finally goes, leaving the two of them alone together, Tommy thinks he might be about to fall asleep on his feet.

“Your father called me,” Mary says, shutting the door. “You’ve been missing for two days.”

And he already called her? Maybe Frank is getting soft in his old age. “Since when do you care?” Tommy asks, dashing ahead into the kitchen to see what’s there. She always buys better food when he’s away.

“Where’s your hat?” Mary asks, not answering his question.

“Dunno. Flew off somewhere,” Tommy says, opening the fridge door. 

“Then you need to dye your roots again. They’re starting to show.” 

Without thinking, Tommy lifts his hand to touch his head and glances at his reflection in the oven door. She’s right; there’s about half an inch of white now. He only dyed it last week, but it grows so fast that even he has trouble keeping up with it. Tommy shrugs. “I kind of like it,” he says, shutting the fridge again with a can of Coke in his hand. When he turns around, Mary is directly in front of him. 

“People will figure out what you are.”

“It’s just hair, Mom,” Tommy says. “I could’ve bleached it that way.”

“You’re being careless.” She clearly knows he’s about to run off; she’s blocking his exit. “I can’t believe you got arrested again.”

“I’m surprised you even noticed.” Tommy ducks under her arm too quickly for her to stop him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Tommy is fifteen, and the jurors have just came out with their verdict, and he’s been to juvie before, but this time it feels different. He can feel his heartbeat everywhere in his body, and it’s so fast a machine wouldn’t be able to distinguish individual beats. He has to hold onto the railing to steady himself. It starts to vibrate in his hands while he listens to the judge’s sentence, and he has to force himself to calm down, to keep still. He can’t afford another accident.

Normal kids go to juvie. Mutant kids with the power to phase through walls and blow up a building need something else. There’s a facility he’s going to, somewhere he’s never heard of, but it’s equipped to handle people like him with power dampeners and specialist doctors. He barely hears it, and doesn’t understand what any of it means, but he’s to stay there until the doctors can find a more ‘permanent’ solution to control his ‘problem’. Tommy can hardly breathe. 

He goes through the end of the trial in what feels like a trance, unable to summon up the effort it takes to understand normal people’s speech. It isn’t until it’s finally over, and his attorney gives him a moment alone with his parents, that he finally snaps out of it.

He doesn’t think he’s seen Frank and Mary stand next to each other in years. Tommy wishes he could say they look concerned, but the only emotion he can recognise is…disappointment? No, not even that. They aren’t disappointed to get rid of him. They never are. 

Despite this, he can’t help himself. “You’ll come visit me, right?” he asks. It tumbles out of his mouth before either of them has a chance to talk, before Tommy even has a chance to think. They’ve never visited him at juvie before, but this time has to be different. This time it matters. He thought he hated them, he thought he was finally above all of this, but right now, he’d give anything for them to promise him it will be okay.

“Of course,” Mary says, glancing at Frank for a moment. 

He’s afraid. God help him, he’s terrified. This just feels wrong. It’s an indefinite sentence in a place nobody knows about that promises to suppress his powers, but everyone is acting like this is fine, this is normal. 

“I’m gonna run right now,” he blurts out then, looking between them as if for approval. “They won’t be able to stop me. I can go and hide out in Canada or something.”

“No, Tommy,” Frank says, stepping forward. “You need to do this properly. You’re an American citizen, they’re not going to hurt you. They’re just going to study how your powers work, and then you’ll be free to go.”

Forcing himself to calm his breathing, Tommy nods. They’re right; this isn’t a game anymore. He has to go through the proper protocols. Until now he’s only ever had minor juvenile offences, but this will mark him for life, especially if he causes any more trouble.

Behind him, he hears his attorney call his name. “Thomas, it’s time.”

“Please don’t go,” Tommy says, barely audible. 

And then Mary steps forward, pulling him into a hug. Tommy’s breathing hitches and he wraps his arms around her just as Frank comes to put a hand on Tommy’s back. This feels like a dream. Before Tommy realises it, he’s crying. 

“You’re going to be okay,” Mary promises, and Tommy nods into her chest. “Just make sure you stay out of trouble and do everything they say. Your father and I will come and visit you as soon as we can.”

They don’t visit. He isn’t okay. 

 

* * *

  


“ _Down_ , boy,” she tells him as she knocks him flat onto his back. “Young Avengers don’t kill. Except for Iron Lad, that one time.”

Obviously, it’s not a hug, but she’s lying on top of him and Tommy hasn’t been this close to a girl since Lisa. He hasn’t even been touched in a way that didn’t make him feel sick for months. As it is, he’s still shaky with adrenaline and barely able to concentrate, but she’s beautiful, he can tell that much, and something about her makes him forget what he was about to do only moments earlier.

Confusion spreads across her face when she registers his own. “You look just like—”

“So I’ve been told,” Tommy says, feeling himself smile, genuinely smile, for the first time in months. “Who are _you_?”

The question catches her off-guard. “I—I’m—” 

“See, this is where having a codename would come in handy,” one of the other Young Avengers says, causing Tommy to look up. Tommy’s pretty sure he remembers this one; he’s the super-soldier, Patriot. 

Billy, the witch kid who has his face, is doing some kind of spell to separate them from the guards while the brunette girl gets off of Tommy, talking to Patriot. “He looks _just_ like—”

“I know,” Patriot says.

“Would someone tell me what the hell is going on?” Tommy asks, moving into an upright position. 

“You’re being recruited.” Patriot offers Tommy a hand. 

Tommy looks suspicious. They want _him_ on their team? Why? Don’t they know what he’s done? “How did you even find out about me?” he asks, getting to his feet. 

“The Avengers fail-safe program. I’ll explain on the way,” Billy says urgently.

“Wiccan, wait.” Patriot’s tone is flat as he turns his gaze back to Tommy. “We didn’t come here to free a super-powered teenage terrorist. We’re here to rescue a superhero. So, what’s it going to be?”

Tommy narrows his eyes and looks around the group again. They’re all around his age—Cassie, the girl who came in with Billy and Vision, might even be a year or two younger. Still, there’s no doubt that all of them are superheroes. They’ve all got costumes and powers and fancy names and fancy-sounding principles like _Young Avengers don’t kill_.

Killing does not phase Tommy; he was moments away from killing those guards before the other girl stopped him. He’s been fantasising about killing them for months. The only thing stopping him right now is that weird wall of magic Billy is throwing up.

Tommy is no hero. He’s not even super; for all his powers he’s been helpless in this place from the day he arrived. One robot did in under a minute what Tommy has been failing to do for months. These guys must be _really_ desperate if _Tommy_ is their Plan A.

He has half a mind to just run right now. He can be miles away before they even register it. If he goes with them, they’ll cast him aside the minute they no longer need his help. That’s how this story always goes; Tommy is irritating and obnoxious and they aren’t even here because of him. They’re here because of his powers, the same thing that got him locked up in the first place. 

So with all of that in mind, he has no idea why he says yes. Maybe it’s the way Patriot is looking at him like he _expects_ Tommy to just bolt. Maybe it’s the pretty girl in purple. Maybe it’s the weird feeling he gets whenever he looks at Billy, like he needs to know more about him, like he _should_ know more about him. 

Maybe it’s because he’s _not_ a killer. That’s what the people here wanted him to be. He was so close to letting them win, but Tommy Shepherd is _better_ than that. 

Maybe he’s not a superhero, but if this is the universe’s way of giving him a second chance, he should probably take it. He always did like to live dangerously. 

 

* * *

 

 

“…You need to meet the rest of the family.”

It’s true then. Wanda is coming down with Billy now, and it’s true, it was true all along, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t _matter_. 

Tommy hangs back as Billy speaks to him. “Tommy, I know you don’t believe any of this, but—”

“It’s not that I don’t _believe_ it.” Billy is nice, but he doesn’t _get_ it. He doesn’t get that believing it has never been the problem. “It’s that I don’t see the _point_. Because, even if she _is_ our mother or whatever, it doesn’t change anything.”

Wanda and Billy have reached the ground now, and she’s so _close_. Tommy has to take a step back while he continues speaking. “She betrayed her friends, she murdered people. She almost wiped out an entire race.” Wanda hangs her head, but Tommy has to keep going. “And she’s going to have to pay for all that. Which means, now that we’ve found her, she’s just going to disappear again…”

She’s going to leave, it doesn’t matter that she’s his mother. It doesn’t matter why. She’s going to leave him and if he lets himself love her it’s going to kill him. 

Wanda takes another step closer to him, and Tommy wants to lean away but he can’t. “…So, what was the point?” he asks lamely while Wanda reaches out to place her hand gently on his arm.

“The point is, you were doing your job when you came looking for me,” Wanda says. Her voice is exactly how Tommy imagined it would be. “You brought a known criminal to justice. But more than that, you’ve given me the chance to see what extraordinary men you’ve become.”

Tommy can feel his body shaking as she says the words, and before he can respond, she is pullinghim into her arms, and he sinks into them, closing his eyes and wrapping his own around her. He wants to cry. “I only wish I were worthy of you,” Wanda murmurs, holding him tightly.

To somebody like Tommy, a moment can be a very long time, but _this_ moment can never be long enough. Next to them, Billy puts an arm around each of them, and the three of them stand like that, finally together after so much time without even knowing that the others were missing. Tommy rests his cheek against Wanda’s shoulder. Her scent is familiar, and everything about her feels _right_. For the first time in his life he feels whole, and he hates it because he knows it’s going to end.

But he doesn’t hate it enough to pull away. He could never. 

 

* * *

 

 

Cassie is dead. He couldn’t get to her in time. Jonas is dead—Tommy tried to get in the way but Nate tossed him aside like he was nothing. He was too slow, he failed them both. He should have been able to save them. What good is a superhero who can’t even protect their friends?

For a moment, Tommy glances down at their lifeless bodies. What Nate left of Jonas is still aflame. Cassie is sprawled a few feet away from him, limp and messy. It would be nice to say she looked like she was sleeping, but she is quite clearly dead. 

Feeling sick, Tommy averts his gaze, unable to keep looking. He doesn’t feel sad, exactly. He doesn’t feel anything. It makes him wonder if Billy was right about him; maybe he really is a sociopath.

A gentle hand touches Tommy’s shoulder, and he doesn’t need to look to know it’s Teddy. Billy is leaning heavily into him, his breathing ragged, but Tommy can’t even look at him, can’t look at either of them. Crossing his arms and hugging himself, Tommy tenses up, staring at the ground and trying to calm his breathing. 

He wasn’t fast enough, and now his friends are dead. He has no right to be comforted.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t stay here,” Tommy says.

Rebecca Kaplan does not seem surprised by the statement. Tommy came down early just to talk to her before Billy and Teddy wake up. He hasn’t told them yet. In a way, he doesn’t want to—he just wants to leave and avoid that conversation, but he thinks he probably will. He owes them that much.

Rebecca doesn’t answer for a moment, during which Tommy sits down next to her, although he doesn’t pull his chair in. His knee is bouncing incessantly. So is his hand on the kitchen table.

“Do you have somewhere to go?” is the first thing she asks, reaching across the table to touch Tommy’s hand. He stops bouncing it. 

Tommy shrugs. Not really. He can’t go back to the warehouse anymore, but he’ll manage, probably. He always does. “I just—need to do my own thing for a bit. I’m gonna look for a job, maybe do some travelling, I don’t know. I’ll be okay.”

“Of course. I understand.” Rebecca sounds kind of sad when she says it, which makes Tommy want to smile. She’s so much nicer than he deserves. He can’t bear it. “But I hope you know you can come back here if you need to. I know Billy’s going to miss you.”

It wasn’t her intention, but her words make Tommy feel like crap. Billy is not so good these days. Half the time he doesn’t even leave the house. Everything that happened with Doom, losing Cassie and Jonas, Tommy knows Billy thinks it’s his fault, but no matter what Tommy says he can’t seem to convince him of it. Leaving him like this feels like letting him go. 

But…it’s not like that. Tommy cares about Billy, probably a lot more than he’d be willing to admit. He just knows enough to know that what he’s doing isn’t working. His presence in this house is not helping him, and Tommy can’t stand around and watch him suffer if that’s the case. Tommy needs to be _doing_ something, and yeah, maybe he can’t do the superhero act on his own, but he can’t grieve like this. He can’t sit still or it’s going to drive him mad. The most he can do for Billy right now is give him space, and keep doing his job for both of them until he’s ready to start doing it himself.

“I’m not giving up on him,” Tommy says, after a short pause. “He’ll come around eventually, I know he will. And he knows how to find me if he needs to.”

“It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind,” Rebecca says.

Tommy has. It’s not a single reason, but he knows there’s no place for him here. The Kaplans are good people, kind enough to welcome him into their home, and that’s exactly why he can’t stay. “Yeah,” he says at last. He’ll probably go today, it’s not like he has any belongings to pack. “Thanks for everything, Mrs. K., seriously. I don’t know what I’d have done if it wasn’t for you guys.”

Rebecca offers him a faint smile. “You’re part of the family, Tommy. You’re always welcome here.” 

Tommy doesn’t know how to respond to that. 

He had a family, once, and it was taken from him a long time ago. Then he had another one that didn’t even want him. He thought he finally found it with the Young Avengers, but now they’ve fallen apart as well. 

That’s okay though, at least for now. He still has people who matter to him. For some strange reason, there are people who care about him too. All he needs right now is a sense of purpose, and he’ll be okay. 

Rebecca reaches over to give Tommy a hug, and he leans into it instinctively, sighing. 

Maybe he could belong here if he let himself. It feels like a mistake, giving up this good, kind family who love him when it’s all he’s ever wanted for most of his life, but he knows it’s the right decision, for everyone involved. His family is scattered around the place, and right now, he needs to be too. In a way, this is the most sure of himself he’s felt in a long time.

 

* * *

 

The party is dying down, but Tommy is still buzzing from the feeling of Kate’s lips on his. It’s been such a long time since he’s seen her, seen any of the old team; he didn’t realise how much he missed them.

Kate seemed happy to see him too. Clearly, it’s been even longer for her; she said something before about inter-dimensional parasites and cosmic horror monsters and saving the world, promising to explain it all in detail later, but this is a time for living in the moment. What happened in the warehouse—Tommy just doesn’t want to think about that right now. He has a bad feeling he’s not going to like whatever the others have to tell him, so for now, he’s going to enjoy being back with his friends. 

There are a few he doesn’t recognise—the girl Kate tells him is called America Chavez, she seems awesome enough. And—that guy they fought with the Runaways that one time? Whatever, it looks like they’re cool now, although Kate is giving him the cold shoulder. David’s there too—they’re all friends now, which is pretty nice. He even says something about Loki. Just what the hell happened while Tommy was in limbo?

Tommy didn’t feel it at first, but he feels it now. This is the Young Avengers, but it’s not his team anymore. He’s not part of it, he’s an afterthought. It’s not that they don’t look happy to see him—from the sounds of it, they’ve been chasing that Patriot imposter for some time trying to get him back—but the way they quip and banter with each other like old friends, Tommy can’t help but resent it, just a little. 

He doesn’t know the full story, but he can’t imagine why they didn’t call him the moment things started going south. Did Billy really believe he wouldn’t have wanted to help? What must they think of him?

Then Billy hugs him. Tommy’s so unprepared for it, it catches him off-guard.

Billy seems different. Not stuck in his rut like he was when Tommy left, but not quite back to normal, either. For a moment, Tommy wishes the others weren’t around. There’s a lot he wants to talk about, but…

The hug is over as quickly as it starts. Tommy lets his hands drop before he can even return it. This isn’t the time nor the place. Neither boy says anything—they often don’t need to to know what the other is thinking, and even though there’s a lot that needs to be said, it’s okay, for now. Billy is happy to see him, that’s what matters. Tommy hopes he knows he’s happy to see him too. 

 

* * *

 

 

Tommy has no idea when having tea with Wanda became a regular thing for him. 

The first couple of times, it was as much an accident as anything else. They found themselves in the same place at the same time, and Wanda convinced him to join her for a bit. 

The truth is, Tommy doesn't know how to feel about Wanda. He knows she’s a good person—and a far better mother than Mary Shepherd could ever hope to be. He wants to know her better, wants it so badly that is scares the hell out of him. 

He doesn’t know for sure, but he thinks that maybe Wanda feels the same way. At least at first, their conversations were short and awkward, seated across from one another with a coffee table in between. What do you even talk about?

It’s not until he’s been finding himself randomly showing up at her apartment for several months that he finally admits that maybe he does know how to feel about Wanda. He knows exactly how to feel about her. Maybe he’s known all along. 

They talk about all kinds of things—sometimes it’s simple, the weather and the latest going-ons of the city. Sometimes it’s more. Occasionally, Tommy even talks about his childhood, and Wanda sits there, listening to him quietly. Those are some things he hasn’t told anyone before, not even Billy, but he feels safe around Wanda.

She’s away a lot, travelling around the world, looking for information about her family history—she promises to tell him all about it when she knows more herself—but after a while, she gives him a key to her apartment and tells him he can stay there whenever he wants, even if she’s not home. 

Today, he’s just there for a visit; he lets himself in, calling out to announce his arrival. “Mom?” he asks. “It’s just me. Are you here?”

Tommy knows the answer is yes before he finishes speaking. Wanda’s head appears by the front of the kitchen, and she gives him a wave. “Oh, hello, Tommy—I’m glad you’re here. Do you want some coffee? It’s just finishing.”

“Yeah, that sounds great, thanks,” Tommy says, coming over to join her. 

“I have something for you. Why don’t you wait here?” Wanda dries her hands on a dish towel before leaving the kitchen. Smiling to himself, Tommy pours the coffee, and then finishes Wanda’s dishes for good measure. He’s just carrying the two cups out when Wanda comes back, holding what appears to be a tablet. 

“I had to call in some favours in order to get these,” Wanda explains, putting a hand on his shoulder as they walk over to the couch where the two of them sit down, close enough that their shoulders are brushing. “…All the pictures we took of you and Billy were lost when you were, but I managed to find a few. I thought you might like them.”

Tommy puts his coffee aside, suddenly alert. “You’ve got pictures of us?” he asks, sitting up and peering down as Wanda opens up the photo album. 

Wanda nods, offering him the tablet, and Tommy holds it where they can both can see it, his expression one of wonder. Wanda points at the screen.

“…This one is Billy, and this one is you,” she explains, a faint smile on her face as she points out each child. In the photograph, he and Billy have matching dark brown hair, the same colour as Wanda’s. Tommy’s always thought that all toddlers look the same, but he thinks that maybe he recognises his own face. 

Tommy lets out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding, and swipes to the next picture. 

“This, Pietro gave you that little sweater, but it was always so big on you…and here, I think Billy had colic when this was taken, he’d been crying for two days straight…oh! And I remember this; you and Billy managed to lock yourselves in the basement while Vision and I were out. It took your nanny the rest of the day just to calm you down…”

It catches Tommy completely by surprise when he realises there’s a tear prickling the corner of his eye. He doesn’t feel sad. Brushing it away with his fingers, he turns to look at Wanda, whose gaze is still focused on the screen and the pictures they’re swiping through together. There’s a smile on her face, but it’s a sad kind of smile, almost wistful, and Tommy knows what she’s thinking. 

He and Billy are grown up now. They’ve spent so much of their lives without her. She was not there for his first steps or his first words. She never got to pick him up on his first day or school, or give him a hug when he felt scared. She was not there in that courtroom to protect him the day Frank and Mary Shepherd made the last promise they would ever break. 

Tommy doesn’t care about that, though. He has her now, and it’s all he’s ever wanted. Extending a hand to take hers, Tommy bumps his head on Wanda’s shoulder, and she sighs, putting an arm around his shoulders and then reaching across with her other to pull him into a hug. 

His head is tucked just under her chin, and Wanda puts her hand on the back of it, absentmindedly combing his hair. Tommy feels about five years old, and he never wants to move. 

“I love you, Tommy,” Wanda tells him. 

_I know_. Tommy does know. He has absolutely no doubt, and that thought no longer scares him. “I love you too, Mom,” he murmurs. 

Maybe he’s an adult now. Maybe it’s too late to change the past, but Tommy has never been one to dwell on the past. He cares about the here and now, and right now, he is safe and warm and loved, and nothing will ever be able to hurt him so long as she is there. 


End file.
